Battle of the Cresting Wave
The Crab had always stood as a bulwark against the Shadowlands, but in the year 716 came a threat even they were powerless against. A mighty Oni calling itself the “Maw” had raised an army unseen since the days of Fu Leng. This was no band of goblins or lurching undead; it was a thousand monstrosities, each one more hideous than the last. They moved and struck as with one mind, directed with supernatural precision by their unspeakable general. They overwhelmed the Crab ramparts and struck deep into Clan territory. Entire villages were wiped out, their occupants transformed into ghastly caricatures that marched alongside the invaders. The landscaped was razed and twisted, its soul corrupted by the unclean beings which stalked upon it.
The Crab army, its defenses overwhelmed, retreated to Hiruma castle and prepared for a siege. The castle had stood as a hard point in the Crab defenses, and had resisted Shadowlands invasions for almost six hundred years. If there was any place to hold the line, it was here. Their enemy, however, had counted on that, and launched a terrible plan to sunder the Hiruma walls. Utilizing secret Earth magics and sacrificing the essence of dozens of oni, the army spirited a contingent of the most bloodthirsty demons beneath the walls of the castle. Their rampage was bloody and terrible and even though the defenders eventually prevailed, the damage had been done. When the Shadowlands army arrived, they found the walls ruptured and undermanned. It was child’s play to bring the ancestral home of the Hiruma crashing down. The fires from the sundered castle spat black smoke into the sky for miles around, searing the hearts of those Crab who managed to flee.
The Kuni school of magic, located in the heart of a vast rolling plain, was next. Its teachers and students had abandoned the place before the army could reach it, taking its library and wealth of knowledge with them. But before they left, they planted a series of traps – both magical and mundane – to slow the invader’s advance. More than a few Oni lost their lives in the twisting corridors of that place, but in the end it made little difference. The very foundations were torn asunder, leaving nothing to indicate the school even existed.
Now, the great Hida fortress was all that stood between the Shadowlands and the whole of Rokugan. The Clan Champion, Hida Banuken, convened a hasty meeting of the daimyos to decide on a course of action. With two lines of defenses already breached, there was little hope of establishing a bulwark. The Shadowlands army could cross the Saigo River and outflank the castle, starving it out before striking at the rest of Rokugan. Many plans were suggested, but they all required time to prepare. The Maw’s army was less than two days away.
Finally, a quiet voice begged permission to speak. It was Kuni Osaku, a revered teacher at the shugenja school. Though only twenty-one, she had demonstrated more power than shugenja twice her age.
“How long will it take you to erect defenses along the Saigo River?” she asked.
Banuken considered carefully. “Sixty days, perhaps a little more.”
“I will give you that time,” she said simply.
The next day, as dawn approachd, Osaku climbed to the highest tower in the castle. From there, she saw the mouth of the Saigo River opening into the Sakana Wan Bay. Kneeling, she drew a series of mystic runes into the floor, then produced a very old and weather-worn scroll. Whispering a prayer to the Seven Fortunes, she began the spell.
The Shadowlands army moved like a hurricane across the landscape, devouring the distance between them and the river. The Crab army was strung impossibly thin along the other side, a twig ready to snap at the slightest breeze. The first Oni waded into the river, their lips slavering in anticipation. The samurai clutched their weapons and steeled their spines, determined to sell their lives as dearly as possible. Then Osaku’s spell reached its climax.
Standing atop the tower, her words had become a torrent. She spoke with the power of thunder and the roar of the tides. Her very being seemed to focus towards the river, channeling unspeakable energies towards its shimmering surface. And then, her roars were drowned out by a far greater one – a tsunami approaching from the bay.
The tidal wave swept up the riverbed and along its path, turning calm waters into a boiling cauldron. Awkwardly at first, and then with increasing vigor, the river reversed its course, flowing upstream with power and fury. The tsunami added is weight to the push, throwing back hundreds of years of natural progress in a single minute. The Oni had reached the midpoint of the river when a thousand tons of water crashed down on them. Most were destroyed by the sheer weight of the tsunamil the strongest were swept far upstream tob e crushed and drowned against the rocks. The other Oni howled in anguish as they watched their brethren carried away, but the crest did not diminish. Indeed it seemed to swell with each moment, becoming rougher and more frenzied. Strangely, the flimsy Crab defenses were untouched by the water; they never felt so much as a drop.
Banuken climbed to the tower to see what the shugenja had wrought. She had not moved from where she stood, her voice echoing the roar of the river far below. Her younger brother, Hohiro, knelt nearby, gazing reverently at his sister’s form. He turned as Banuken approached, his eyes damp with sorrow.
“Every time the sun rises, she will age one year,” he whispered. “You have your sixty days, my Lord.”
Banuken did not waste an instant. He charged down from the tower, shouting for the daimyo to attend him immediately. Within the hour, their course of action was set. Every peasant and nobleman, every soldier and merchant, every geisha, housewife, and samurai-ko capable of work was brought to the shore of the river. Farms were abandoned, towns left empty. NO one could be spared for mundane activities. All that summer, the Crab lands beyond the river lay silent. Favors were called in from the Crane and Scorpion to provide food and supplies, and a hideous vengeance was promised against any who would take advantage of their vulnerability.
The assembled populace set to work, building a wall that no enemy could breach. Stones wee laid into the shore of the Saigo, linking the thin sprinkling of outposts into a solid line. Shugenja bound the foundation with mighty magic, calling upon the Earth itself to hold it firm. Battlements and ramparts arose with inhuman speed, as a desperate combination of magic, engineering, and manpower accomplished in days what might have taken years. The fractured Crab army reassembled itself, their ranks swollen by Lion and Dragon soldiers who came to defend the Empire. And as the wall grew higher, battle plans were laid.
Spring stretched into summer. Each day, Osaku weakened a little more, every sunset claiming another year of her life. Her radiant face soon became creased with wrinkles, her black hair fading to grey, thenwhite. But still she shouted, still her unspeakable roar guided the swollen riverbed on its course. The Oni army was powerless to cross It, their hideous ranks held at bay by the wall of water. But it could not last forever; with an inhuman patience, the Maw waited for the river to subside.
Seventy-three days after beginning the spell, Osaku spent the last of her being. Her decrepit body, depleted of its last remaining energy, pitched forward as her hoarse voice at last fell silent. Her brother, standing vigil, cradled her in his arms. Sorrow and pride in equal amounts imprinted his face, and as he stroked the last of her snowy hair, he saw what the Oni had been waiting for: the river below began to subside.
From far away, the Maw had heard the shugneja’s death rattle, and ordered his army to advance. The river crested and fell, the rushing waters first stilling, then receding to nothing. As one, the Oni launched themselves into the breach, charging across the draining riverbed to claim their long-denied prize. They found the Crab ready for them.
The stone walls stretched high, anchored in the living rock of the earth itself. Samurai and bushi stood on the ramparts, a thousand soldiers ready to hold the line. As the Oni threw themselves against the wall, ballistae loosed their missiles at the horde. Boiling tar poured down upon them while great balls of pitch launched from Kaiu catapaults. Magic flashed through the sky as the Kuni shugenja cast their terrible spells. And still the Oni pressed on. Inhuman claws gouged at the great stones. Gibbering flying things tried to clear the battlements. A grewsome tower of the living, the dead, and the dying scaled the sides of the walls, hoping to overpower the bushi atop. None could break the implacable defense.
As the push slowed and the Oni battered themselves into weariness, Banuken launched his counterattack. From a hundred secret tunnels the Crab army emerged into the now-empty riverbed, pinning the Maw between them and the walls. The Hiruma samurai led the charge, screaming for vengeance at the loss of their home. Tired and wounded, their monstrous strength blunted by the power of the walls, the Oni were unable to mount a defense. The Crab army rushed into their ranks, cutting down all before them. The Oni were slaughtered like goats, the riverbed filled with their stinking corpses. As night fell, the army retreated behind the walls, counted their dead, and celebrated their victory.
The river was renamed Seigo no Kamae in honor of the battle. The Maw’s gigantic skull hangs over the gates of Hida castle, a testament to the strength of Clan Crab.
Kuni Osaku’s name is revered among the greatest heroes of the Empire.
The Crab army, its defenses overwhelmed, retreated to Hiruma castle and prepared for a siege. The castle had stood as a hard point in the Crab defenses, and had resisted Shadowlands invasions for almost six hundred years. If there was any place to hold the line, it was here. Their enemy, however, had counted on that, and launched a terrible plan to sunder the Hiruma walls. Utilizing secret Earth magics and sacrificing the essence of dozens of oni, the army spirited a contingent of the most bloodthirsty demons beneath the walls of the castle. Their rampage was bloody and terrible and even though the defenders eventually prevailed, the damage had been done. When the Shadowlands army arrived, they found the walls ruptured and undermanned. It was child’s play to bring the ancestral home of the Hiruma crashing down. The fires from the sundered castle spat black smoke into the sky for miles around, searing the hearts of those Crab who managed to flee.
The Kuni school of magic, located in the heart of a vast rolling plain, was next. Its teachers and students had abandoned the place before the army could reach it, taking its library and wealth of knowledge with them. But before they left, they planted a series of traps – both magical and mundane – to slow the invader’s advance. More than a few Oni lost their lives in the twisting corridors of that place, but in the end it made little difference. The very foundations were torn asunder, leaving nothing to indicate the school even existed.
Now, the great Hida fortress was all that stood between the Shadowlands and the whole of Rokugan. The Clan Champion, Hida Banuken, convened a hasty meeting of the daimyos to decide on a course of action. With two lines of defenses already breached, there was little hope of establishing a bulwark. The Shadowlands army could cross the Saigo River and outflank the castle, starving it out before striking at the rest of Rokugan. Many plans were suggested, but they all required time to prepare. The Maw’s army was less than two days away.
Finally, a quiet voice begged permission to speak. It was Kuni Osaku, a revered teacher at the shugenja school. Though only twenty-one, she had demonstrated more power than shugenja twice her age.
“How long will it take you to erect defenses along the Saigo River?” she asked.
Banuken considered carefully. “Sixty days, perhaps a little more.”
“I will give you that time,” she said simply.
The next day, as dawn approachd, Osaku climbed to the highest tower in the castle. From there, she saw the mouth of the Saigo River opening into the Sakana Wan Bay. Kneeling, she drew a series of mystic runes into the floor, then produced a very old and weather-worn scroll. Whispering a prayer to the Seven Fortunes, she began the spell.
The Shadowlands army moved like a hurricane across the landscape, devouring the distance between them and the river. The Crab army was strung impossibly thin along the other side, a twig ready to snap at the slightest breeze. The first Oni waded into the river, their lips slavering in anticipation. The samurai clutched their weapons and steeled their spines, determined to sell their lives as dearly as possible. Then Osaku’s spell reached its climax.
Standing atop the tower, her words had become a torrent. She spoke with the power of thunder and the roar of the tides. Her very being seemed to focus towards the river, channeling unspeakable energies towards its shimmering surface. And then, her roars were drowned out by a far greater one – a tsunami approaching from the bay.
The tidal wave swept up the riverbed and along its path, turning calm waters into a boiling cauldron. Awkwardly at first, and then with increasing vigor, the river reversed its course, flowing upstream with power and fury. The tsunami added is weight to the push, throwing back hundreds of years of natural progress in a single minute. The Oni had reached the midpoint of the river when a thousand tons of water crashed down on them. Most were destroyed by the sheer weight of the tsunamil the strongest were swept far upstream tob e crushed and drowned against the rocks. The other Oni howled in anguish as they watched their brethren carried away, but the crest did not diminish. Indeed it seemed to swell with each moment, becoming rougher and more frenzied. Strangely, the flimsy Crab defenses were untouched by the water; they never felt so much as a drop.
Banuken climbed to the tower to see what the shugenja had wrought. She had not moved from where she stood, her voice echoing the roar of the river far below. Her younger brother, Hohiro, knelt nearby, gazing reverently at his sister’s form. He turned as Banuken approached, his eyes damp with sorrow.
“Every time the sun rises, she will age one year,” he whispered. “You have your sixty days, my Lord.”
Banuken did not waste an instant. He charged down from the tower, shouting for the daimyo to attend him immediately. Within the hour, their course of action was set. Every peasant and nobleman, every soldier and merchant, every geisha, housewife, and samurai-ko capable of work was brought to the shore of the river. Farms were abandoned, towns left empty. NO one could be spared for mundane activities. All that summer, the Crab lands beyond the river lay silent. Favors were called in from the Crane and Scorpion to provide food and supplies, and a hideous vengeance was promised against any who would take advantage of their vulnerability.
The assembled populace set to work, building a wall that no enemy could breach. Stones wee laid into the shore of the Saigo, linking the thin sprinkling of outposts into a solid line. Shugenja bound the foundation with mighty magic, calling upon the Earth itself to hold it firm. Battlements and ramparts arose with inhuman speed, as a desperate combination of magic, engineering, and manpower accomplished in days what might have taken years. The fractured Crab army reassembled itself, their ranks swollen by Lion and Dragon soldiers who came to defend the Empire. And as the wall grew higher, battle plans were laid.
Spring stretched into summer. Each day, Osaku weakened a little more, every sunset claiming another year of her life. Her radiant face soon became creased with wrinkles, her black hair fading to grey, thenwhite. But still she shouted, still her unspeakable roar guided the swollen riverbed on its course. The Oni army was powerless to cross It, their hideous ranks held at bay by the wall of water. But it could not last forever; with an inhuman patience, the Maw waited for the river to subside.
Seventy-three days after beginning the spell, Osaku spent the last of her being. Her decrepit body, depleted of its last remaining energy, pitched forward as her hoarse voice at last fell silent. Her brother, standing vigil, cradled her in his arms. Sorrow and pride in equal amounts imprinted his face, and as he stroked the last of her snowy hair, he saw what the Oni had been waiting for: the river below began to subside.
From far away, the Maw had heard the shugneja’s death rattle, and ordered his army to advance. The river crested and fell, the rushing waters first stilling, then receding to nothing. As one, the Oni launched themselves into the breach, charging across the draining riverbed to claim their long-denied prize. They found the Crab ready for them.
The stone walls stretched high, anchored in the living rock of the earth itself. Samurai and bushi stood on the ramparts, a thousand soldiers ready to hold the line. As the Oni threw themselves against the wall, ballistae loosed their missiles at the horde. Boiling tar poured down upon them while great balls of pitch launched from Kaiu catapaults. Magic flashed through the sky as the Kuni shugenja cast their terrible spells. And still the Oni pressed on. Inhuman claws gouged at the great stones. Gibbering flying things tried to clear the battlements. A grewsome tower of the living, the dead, and the dying scaled the sides of the walls, hoping to overpower the bushi atop. None could break the implacable defense.
As the push slowed and the Oni battered themselves into weariness, Banuken launched his counterattack. From a hundred secret tunnels the Crab army emerged into the now-empty riverbed, pinning the Maw between them and the walls. The Hiruma samurai led the charge, screaming for vengeance at the loss of their home. Tired and wounded, their monstrous strength blunted by the power of the walls, the Oni were unable to mount a defense. The Crab army rushed into their ranks, cutting down all before them. The Oni were slaughtered like goats, the riverbed filled with their stinking corpses. As night fell, the army retreated behind the walls, counted their dead, and celebrated their victory.
The river was renamed Seigo no Kamae in honor of the battle. The Maw’s gigantic skull hangs over the gates of Hida castle, a testament to the strength of Clan Crab.
Kuni Osaku’s name is revered among the greatest heroes of the Empire.
